Fresh Start
by AivaRobinson
Summary: Sometimes a fresh start is all you really need. A story focusing on the interactions between three brothers and the kids that somehow end up worming their way into their lives.
1. Beginning - Part 1

Disclaimer: Only the story idea is mine. The MommaCQ verse belongs to alainaprana; Fresh, Geno, and Error belong to loverofpiggies; Decans belongs to little-noko; Asy belongs to furgemancs; and Ink belongs to comyet/myebi. (And of course, Undertale belongs to Toby Fox. Not that this has very much to do with Undertale at all.)

* * *

Everything _hurt._

That wasn't actually anything new, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to deal with. Decans let out a shaky breath, ignoring the creaking of his ribs as he curled in on himself. Hospital beds were always cold, and Momma had left a while ago so it was up to him to get warm all by himself. It wasn't easy, but he didn't want to get under the covers either. He might not be supposed to yet, and he really didn't want to be yelled at anymore today. Not that that was anything new either.

The tiny five-year-old chewed nervously on his lip. It really only bugged the scratch on his face, but it felt better than his ribs did so he ignored it. Today really hadn't been a good day at all. He was just reading a book, but apparently that made Daddy really upset. It was never good when Daddy was upset.

He had to go to the hospital, because he always broke really easy and then got sick really easy too. He didn't like the hospital very much, even if the nurses were nice and gave him crackers and juice. But…today had been extra different. Some lady in a suit had come in to talk to him and ask him questions about home. Decans wasn't a big fan of talking about it, but Momma wasn't there to answer for him, so he tried to do it by himself. He didn't think he did a very good job though, because she looked sad when he answered.

Where had she said she was from again? Child Protective Services? Decans wasn't sure what exactly that was, but he didn't think he needed protecting. Everything was all his fault anyway. When he got hurt, he deserved it. And then if he got sick afterwards, that was his fault too, because he was supposed to clean it better. Sometimes Momma helped him, but even then, it was his fault. It made sense though. He couldn't do anything right. He had plenty of scars to remind him.

Decans lifted his head up from the pillow when he heard voices right outside his room door. He recognized one of them – that was the Child Protective Services lady. He hoped she wasn't mad. The next one was new though, and the little five-year old couldn't help but be curious. It didn't sound like a nurse, or the doctor he saw earlier. It didn't even sound like the cleaning man who mopped the halls.

"Nah, I don't mind takin' care of da kid," the new voice said. It talked like it was trying to be quiet, but Decans was good at listening. "Pretty unrad to all up an' leave him with someone else, ya know? I got da know-how ta take care of him."

"Are you quite sure, Doctor…ah…Fresh?" That was the lady again.

"'Course I am," the other voice agreed. "I said it, didn't I? Be all sorts of uncool to go back on mah word when a lil broski needs some help, yo."

"Well…alright. But only because of extenuating circumstances. His medical history makes it risky for him to be placed somewhere else." The lady didn't sound very convinced. "We will be checking in, of course. And I'll need to monitor this first visit to make sure he wouldn't rather be placed somewhere else."

Who was the he? Decans wasn't quite sure, but a nervous fluttering inside his ribcage whispered that maybe it might be him. He hoped not. He just wanted to go home with Momma and hide under his bed. He stared with wide and anxious eyes as the door opened, unable to help the way his jaw dropped in response.

He…he had never seen a doctor so _colorful_ before. The white lab coat didn't do a whole lot to hide the neon clothes underneath, and the vibrant ball cap and sunglasses only accentuated it all.

"Wh-who're y-yyou?" he blurted out, eyes widening further when he spoke without permission. That _always_ made Daddy mad. "I-I…sor-rry!" he stammered out, grabbing his hoodie around him protectively.

"No need ta be sorry," the colorful skeleton immediately assured, lifting up his sunglasses to wink. "An' no need to be so tense either, yo! I'm not gonna hurtcha, just chill for a sec."

"S-sorry," Decans mumbled, ducking his head, though his eyes didn't leave the adult's face. And because apparently he wasn't supposed to be sorry, "Sorry," he added again.

"Heh, sounds like ya still bein' pretty sorry dere, broski. I'm not mad at ya, so ya got nothin' ta be sorry for," the doctor assured, frowning a bit when Decans just ducked his head further before the smile returned and he stuck his hand out. "But hey, no need ta worry about dat either, everything's rad. I'm Doctor Fresh, but ya can just leave out da doctor part. No need to be all formal an' all."

Decans flinched away instinctively from the extended hand. That…didn't usually mean good things at all. The cut on his face and ribs were proof of that, along with a lot of scars on other bones too. "I…I'm D-Decans," he whispered out, digging small fingers even tighter into his hoodie. Their grip on the fabric was so tight it was painful, but he barely noticed.

"Just a handshake, Decans bro," Fresh frowned. "Ya just reach out an' hold mah hand and move it up and down a few times."

"Not supposed to," Decans admitted in a quiet, nervous voice. "Touching hurts." Especially when it was Daddy, and especially when he had done something wrong again and Daddy was mad.

"Well, dat does sound like a bit of a problem dere," Fresh nodded. "But not with me! I'll even hold still just for ya, all ya gotta do is reach out. No hurtin' at all. Up ta you though, Decans broski. Whatev makes ya comfy."

The five-year-old stared at the adult searchingly. He would hold still? Curiosity was enough to cut through the fear, because he had never gotten to shake a hand before. Slowly he reached a tiny hand out. It seemed to be absolutely swallowed by Fresh's, but he was more distracted by the fact that he had been right. It…didn't hurt. Eyes widening, his mouth dropped open a little bit again as thin fingers dug into the adult's hand, clinging tightly. It actually felt nice, warm and gentle. And when Fresh's fingers closed around his own, it wasn't frightening like it should've been.

"See?" Fresh grinned. "It's not hurtin' ya, is it?"

"No," Decans confirmed in an awe-struck whisper. "It feels nice."

The Child Protective Services lady was looking a lot more reassured now. "Decans, sweetie, do you like Doctor Fresh?" That got a nod from the tiny child. "Well, how about you stay with him for a little bit, while the adults work some things out? Is that okay with you, sweetheart?"

And then he was on guard again, frowning as he chewed on his bottom lip. "Not supposed to go with strangers," Decans argued nervously.

"Aw, we aren't strangers!" Fresh immediately interjected. "Ya seem pretty rad, lil broski, how's about we be friends instead?"

Decans eyes widened even further, a small gasp slipping out. "R-really?" he blurted. At the confirming nod, the tiniest hints of a smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth. "I haven't had a friend before."

"So's how about you stay with me for a lil bit then?" Fresh pressed with an easy smile. "Since we're friends an' all."

"Can Momma come?" Decans asked, worried. She still hadn't come back, but he didn't want to leave her. She was much nicer than Daddy was, and said she loved him a lot and sometimes even hugged him. Even if it kind of hurt, it was nice.

"I'm afraid she can't," the same lady answered with another sad look. "The adults have to work things out, remember? But I think she can come visit you later if you want."

Decans somehow got the vibe that he didn't really have much of a choice but to leave and go with Fresh. At least he seemed nice, and he would get to see Momma later. "O-okay," he agreed hesitantly, ducking his head again.

"Aw, hey, no worries, lil Decans broski!" Fresh immediately reassured. "It'll all work out, no point in worryin' 'bout it in da meantime."

Well…that made a certain amount of sense, and Decans found himself nodding along. When Fresh kept talking, the small skeleton found himself starting to smile. And somehow, when he ended up in the adult's arms being carried outside, he found himself nodding off, feeling surprisingly safe and secure.

Maybe Fresh was right. Maybe things would all work out after all. It was…kind of like…a fresh start. A sleepy smile slipped out at the thought. Hehe. _Fresh_ start. That was pretty funny.

* * *

Whew, okay. I am planning on continuing this, as a series of one-shots and small arcs to sort of get me back into the whole writing thing. So ideas and suggestions of things you would like to see are more than welcome!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

-Aiva


	2. Beginning - Part 2

See the previous chapter for the disclaimer. ^^ It'll pretty much go for the whole story.

 **A/N** I'm gonna try to stick to an update every Friday or Saturday? It might end up changing some, but it should work for now I think so long as I don't get too busy.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Decans, sweetheart, I need you to stay in your room for a little while, okay?"

The very small skeleton sat curled up on his bed, knees drawn to his chest protectively. It protected his ribs, which always seemed to be at least a little bit injured. Right now they were really hurt, every breath wheezing. He nodded obediently. "Okay, Momma," he whispered out. He was scared to talk louder. Things would get loud really soon, but it wouldn't be him making the noises. That was never a good idea.

"That's my good boy," she soothed, reaching out and caressing his cheek. It tugged against the small cut on his face, but Decans leaned into the touch all the same. "My little treasure. Stay here and stay safe, and read your new book until I come back, okay?"

Decans could do that. He had learned how to read recently, and had fallen in love with it, whispering words out loud and running his fingers over the printed ink. It was kind of like an escape from the world that didn't risk him getting hurt. Momma had gotten him a few books since then that he tried to hide under his pillow. That way Daddy wouldn't take them away.

"Okay, M-Momma," he nodded, hands starting to shake. He reached out to hold his new book to get them to stop. It didn't really work, but it had been worth a try.

She gave him a kiss on the head and then she was gone, Decans trying to memorize the warm feeling she left behind. It was nicer to focus on that than other things.

The shouting started only a few seconds later. Loud and shrill, it cut through the walls and door like they weren't even there. Decans flinched, then let out a little breath as it jostled his ribs. They made a sort of crunching sound, even with the bandages trying to hold them together. At least Momma had helped him clean them this time.

The small five-year-old tried to focus on reading his book and its words instead of the ones being screamed. "L-look, J-jj-jane," he whispered shakily. "Look-k, Dick. L-l-look and s-see."

The shouts reached a new crescendo, and Decans flinched, starting to tremble. That only made his ribs hurt worse though, the quietest whimper slipping out. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes against the world for a moment before looking back at his book.

A tear dripped down his cheek to plop onto the page, threatening to smear ink and colors. He reached out with a thin finger to carefully wipe it away, because he wanted this book to remain perfect. Everything else might be messed up, and it might all be Decans fault, but this wouldn't be. It was the only thing he could fix.

.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him abruptly out of the nightmare, the five-year-old gasping awake. His ribs were really hurting, a deep stabbing pain that made him wish he could go back to sleep. It wasn't his normal bed though, somehow feeling warmer than he ever thought possible. It was amazing, and he soaked in the feeling even as he attempted to figure out where he was.

Everything was blurry through tears, but Decans managed to make out bright colors. Blinking hard, his vision cleared enough to see another skeleton's face alarmingly close to his own. Letting out a squeak of alarm, he flinched violently backwards, hard enough to send him reeling. The squeak cut off abruptly as he felt himself start to fall. It was going to hurt, but don't cry out, don't make a sound, Daddy and Momma don't like that. Bones would crunch and burn but don't say a word, he needed to find a sink so he could clean it if he could even move, sometimes he couldn't because it _hurt_ it would hurt so bad –

An arm wrapped impossibly gentle around him kept him from hitting the ground.

Staring up with a tear-streaked face, Decans was finally able to make out the features of the same colorful skeleton that had brought him home last night. His new friend.

"D-dd-d-doctor F-fresh," he stammered out in recognition, voice painfully quiet. He flinched again as soon as he spoke, because Daddy didn't like him talking.

"Dat's me, broski! But ya can leave off dat 'doctor' part, too formal, remember?" Fresh agreed, a frown on his face. It was a different type of frown than a sad one, the kind that nurses and doctors usually had, but Decans couldn't quite place the emotion. Maybe he'd figure it out later.

"S-s-sorry," he whispered instead. Because he had talked, because it was his fault for almost falling, and because his ribs were hurting and that was his fault too.

"Nah, dis one is def my fault, lil' broski," Fresh immediately insisted, that same frown on his face. "Shoulda remembered you were all up an' skittish and respected dat. Ya were just sleepin' so well an' I'm a huge cuddler, yo, so I just didn't move ya. My bad."

Decans stared with wide eyes, face betraying his total lack of understanding. He was blaming himself? Adults were never wrong, so why was this one saying he had been? It was all Decans' fault. He had the nightmare, he had talked when he should have stayed silent and flinched when he should have stayed still. That was the way it always was – even Momma said so, and Momma was always right.

"Th-th-that…" he swallowed hard, trembling as he whispered out the rest, "th-that doesn't mm-ma-make s-sense."

Doctor Fresh blinked, a blank expression on his face for a second before he raised one eyebrow. "What about dat is confusin' ya?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"I-it's not your f-fault," Decans attempted to explain, starting to sniffle a bit. "It's a-always mine."

"What's got ya thinkin' dat, lil' broski?" the adult asked, head tilting further as he carefully pulled the tiny child more securely onto his lap. Decans flinched at the motion, but didn't move away, staying carefully still.

He…had never really talked this much before. Momma said it was dangerous to do that, and from personal experience, Decans had to agree. Even if he was really quiet, it seemed like Daddy always heard, and Daddy always got mad. It was better to just stay quiet and sit in his room. But Doctor Fresh was asking him questions, and that meant he was supposed to respond, so hopefully he wouldn't get in trouble later. That wouldn't feel good, especially since his ribs were still really hurting.

Decans shrugged, but Doctor Fresh just looked like he was waiting for more, so the five-year-old took a shaky breath. "…I-it's what's always tr-true," he replied hesitantly, staring down at his hands as they balled themselves into his shorts. "I'm n-not quiet, so I g-get hurt. I-I don't clean things s-so I get sick. A-and I m-make Daddy spend a lot of m-money when I get s-sick, so he gets mad again. And then M-Momma gets hurt asking h-him to."

Doctor Fresh had a scary expression on his face, brows furrows and mouth twisted into a frown. It looked almost like when Daddy got mad, but not quite that frightening, because Doctor Fresh didn't smell like the glass bottles and he wasn't raising his hand to strike. That didn't stop Decans' bones from rattling together a little louder, and he hugged himself tightly to try and get it to stop.

"Dat is da most funking unrad thing I've heard!" Doctor Fresh immediately blurted, huffing out an frustrated breath and then taking a deeper one. "Look, lil' broski, Imma be honest with ya here – you're Pop isn't a good person. He's a bully, an' dat's not okay in da least. Whatever he's said to ya is probably straight up false, yo. None of dat is your fault! You're a kid, you're s'posed to be loud! Make noise, be happy, live life an' all that! No point in sittin' around bein' so quiet ya forget ta have fun once in a while."

Decans stared with wide eyes, listening but not comprehending. There was apparently more though, Doctor Fresh taking a breath before continuing on.

"Ya get sick 'cause you've got what dey call a degenerative soul. Dat basically means it's gonna be weak by nature, which hurts dat immune system in a bad way. Ya get sick 'cause of dat, which isn't something you can control. Ya can't help who ya are, no point in blaming yourself for it."

The five-year-old stared for a moment before bursting into tears.

It was apparently far too much for him to handle at that moment. He was hurting, in a completely new environment, with an adult he had only known for a day and was his first friend, and had just had his entire worldview upended. He cried silently, the only sound the shuddering breaths he took as his cheeks grew wet.

"Aw, dangit," Doctor Fresh murmured under his breath. Decans missed the momentary blank expression on the adult's face, but he didn't miss the two little pills being offered to him. Those were the magic pills that he sometimes got at the hospital, that made his bones hurt less. He didn't even wait for water before swallowing them. He never got those at home before. Not that this place was home.

Decans let out a little gasp as arms wrapped around him again. His first thought was to freeze, because this was going to hurt. He just _knew_ it, because touching always hurt. Even when it was Momma. But Doctor Fresh had been different before and apparently this time followed that trend.

The hug was gentle and soft, applying barely any pressure at all to his fragile ribcage. And Doctor Fresh was so incredibly warm, and his jacket was so incredibly soft, that the five-year-old found himself just pressing himself a little closer. He didn't notice the way his tears soaked into the adult's shirt, far more focused on the soft reassurances being whispered.

Decans couldn't help but feel a little guilty that this hug was nicer than Momma's. He really should let go, but…maybe….maybe it'd be okay to stay for just a moment more.

* * *

 **A/N** A few bumps along the road are pretty much expected for a scared little kid, but Decans seems to be settling in pretty well so far. Let's just hope it stays that way, eh?~

-Aiva

Reviews are always greatly appreciated!


	3. Beginning - Part 3

**A/N** So I realize it's been a while since I've updated - I'm so sorry! Family stuff came up. I should be back on schedule now though.

Same credit to the same characters as last time ^^

* * *

…Maybe more than a moment was okay too.

The hug was better than anything Decans had ever felt before, all the warmth of a blanket combined with the happiness of a kiss from Momma. It helped make some of the inside hurt feel better, the kind of hurt that medicine never fixed. Not that he got medicine a lot – Momma said they had to ration it. He wasn't sure that that meant really, apart from having to hide his face in a pillow sometimes so Daddy wouldn't hear him crying because it hurt too badly for him to not to.

He would rather hurt than drink the fuzzy drink though. Momma said that it was supposed to help the hurt go away, like a special and cheaper medicine. All it did was make him feel sick and slow, dizzy and sluggish in the worst way possible. Decans didn't like the smell either – it smelled like Daddy when he was really mad and smashed bottles.

A soft growling sound interrupted the hug.

Decans wrapped his thin arms around himself immediately to try and muffle the sound, letting out a tiny whimper as it jarred his ribs painfully. Eyes widening, he stiffened, bones starting to rattle loudly together, louder than the whimper ever was. That was _bad._ He'd get in trouble now for sure, because he wasn't supposed to complain, and even if he didn't mean to, his stomach growling was basically complaining that he was hungry. It was the worst kind of noise to make, and the whimper made it even worse, because that was complaining that he was hurting. He could only do that sometimes with Momma, when she asked him. Doctor Fresh hadn't asked, and he wasn't Momma.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" Decans blurted out. Except that was loud too, so now he was going to get into _more_ trouble. Fresh tears welled up and trickled down, and that was the final push the five-year-old needed. He scrambled desperately away from the adult, attempting to squirm under the couch.

Daddy hated it when he cried, saying he should be a man and not a baby. Curling into a tiny ball, Decans cried anyway. Tiny, barely audible sobs gasped out as he curled into an even tinier ball, all bony elbows and pointy knees shaking and trembling until it sounded like something vibrating against the wooden floor. His ribs protested the movement, but it was nothing compared to the terror coursing through his scarred bones.

"S-sorry!" he gasped out again when he felt a hand touch his back, flinching violently away even though he wasn't supposed to do that either. He just couldn't do _anything_ right!

The hand quickly withdrew, but that didn't calm the five-year-old any. He was convinced it would just come back again, slamming into fragile bone and splintering it like glass until he was just pieces on the floor he was expected to put back together. Like Humpty Dumpty, but over and over again until maybe one day nobody could piece it all together again after all.

A thin, reedy whine escaped, and it took Decans a minute to figure out that it was coming from him. Immediately he stuffed his hoodie sleeve into his mouth to muffle the sound. He was just so scared, because the anticipation made things worse. Why was Doctor Fresh waiting? Why wasn't he ripping the couch aside to beat him down? Did he just like dragging it out? Decans supposed he deserved it, but that didn't stop him from being terrified.

"Hey, hey, Deccy," Doctor Fresh soothed after a moment. "It's okay, dere's nothing here dat's gonna hurt ya. 'Specially not me – dat'd just be bullyin', and I'm not like your Pop. Take a deep breath an' den try and calm down, you'll be alright in no time at all, lil broski."

Sucking in a desperate breath, he whimpered again when it shifted his fragile ribs. Some days, like these, it felt more like they were made of paper then anything, ready to rip apart at the slightest movement. The whimper just scared him more, and Decans started to choke out terrified sobs. He didn't even register what Doctor Fresh was saying – it was an adult talking after he'd been bad, and so it couldn't be anything good. He already knew he was worthless and messed up, he didn't need to hear it again.

A knock on the door interrupted, and his scrambled mind interpreted it as bottles being broken. He scrambled further under the couch with a panicked gasp, certain he'd end up with shards stabbing in, cutting bones and grinding into joints. Then he would get yelled at for being so messy and spilling magic on the floor, though he tried to cup tiny shaking hands around the worst injuries to stop it. It was bad enough tears were puddling on the floor – Doctor Fresh would probably hate the mess. His house looked really clean; there wasn't even dust under the couch.

The creak of a door opening, and then an unfamiliar voice made Decans jump in surprise. It only jarred him against the couch he was hiding underneath, but he refused to make a sound this time, just biting onto his hoodie harder.

"Fresh! I heard that you adopted a kid! I'm so proud of you; you've been working really hard with your emotions. You'll be a great dad!" the voice gushed, the stars in his eyes practically able to be heard.

"Might not wanna get excited yet, Geno broski," Doctor Fresh replied. "Da kid's really skittish. He's scared of makin' noises or gettin' touched, even tho' he seems ta really like gettin' hugs. I think I scared him by mistake." There was a moment of silence before he continued. "Dere was just a lot of emotions an' I got confused about it all."

"It's okay," the other voice – Geno? – immediately interrupted. "You're doing really well with emotions still! I can come in and help you with this."

"Thank ya, bro," Doctor Fresh nodded. "Da kiddo is hidin' under da couch, won't even let me touch him anymore."

That was because touching hurt. Or, it was supposed to. With Doctor Fresh it was different, but Decans was far too shaken and scared right now to actually rationally process that. He couldn't see Geno nodding, or the soft reassuring smile on his face. All he could see were flashes of recent history he still actually didn't understand was over, broken bottles and flying fists and dusty corners soaked with magic. He ground his teeth into the hoodie to keep himself from crying out, hoping the fabric didn't rip. It was the warmest thing he had, he didn't want to lose it. He couldn't wrap it up like he could wrap up broken bones.

He let out a startled cry when another hand, smaller and colder this time, gently touched his back. It didn't move away this time, even as he burst into fresh sobs. His throat was hurting from it now, but he couldn't seem to stop, just another thing he couldn't do right.

"Hey, it's okay," Geno soothed, voice soft and low. "It's okay right now. There's nobody here that will hurt you. My brother is the best, I bet he's taking great care of you so far. It's okay to be a little scared though, nobody will get mad at you for it."

"Bro…what're ya doing?" Doctor Fresh asked, worry clear in his voice. Decans didn't understand that either – either he was worried that Decans was going to get in more trouble, or he was worried that Decans was going to get hurt. Either one implied a concern for the five-year-old that was an entirely foreign concept. "He doesn't like bein' touched, I'm pretty sure he's shakin' like dat because he's scared, I don't understand-"

"Fresh," Geno interrupted, voice still just as gentle and calm. "Just trust me okay?"

"I _trust_ ya, I just don't understand," came the harried response.

Geno made a small hum of acknowledgement, and the hand on Decans' back started to move in slow and steady circles. "This kid is scared," he offered in explanation. "Really, really scared. And so anything you do right now, he's going to be scared of."

"Den why not just leave him alone?" Doctor Fresh blurted. "Da kid is still scared, and he's just cryin' harder now dat you've touched him."

"He doesn't really want to be alone," Geno answered, speaking with all the surety of someone who was very familiar with the feeling of having been scared to their very core. "So you have to sit and wait for him to calm down a little bit, and make sure he knows you're there. You said he liked hugs, so this seemed like a good compromise."

Doctor Fresh made a small sound of frustration that made Decans curl into a tighter ball, just in case. Geno didn't seem to be scared though, which was a bit weird, just continuing to move his hand in small circles. It kind of felt nice, though not as nice as a hug.

"Why don't you look at him again?" Geno suggested.

Decans couldn't see what was going on, since he was still too scared to even poke his head out from underneath the couch. He was feeling a little bit better at this point though. His breathing was still fast and shallow, but his bones weren't rattling as loudly, and the tears were starting to dry on his cheeks. Cautiously, slowly, he leaned into the gentle touch on his back.

"…Huh," Doctor Fresh said after a moment.

"Don't worry, I'll explain it to you more," Geno said, a hint of a grin in his voice, not that Decans picked up on that. It wasn't a sound he was used to.

Though…did that mean that Geno was staying? The five-year-old's first instinct was to stiffen and get nervous all over again, but a soothing murmur and the continued motions of the gentle hand was enough to get him to slowly relax again. Decans didn't understand how all of these new people were so nice, but he wasn't going to complain either. He just hoped they stayed that way.

* * *

 **A/N** So welcome in Geno! He's such a sweetheart, my word, and he'll be sticking around to help out for a bit.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

-Aiva


	4. Beginning - Part 4

**Disclaimer** As always, I own nothing, credit goes to the original creators previously listed.

* * *

Decans had no clue how long they stayed like that, but it was long enough that the electric adrenaline had faded into an exhausted buzz, weighing heavy at his body. Normally at this point he'd force sluggish bones to crawl underneath the bed. This was not normally though, because there was no major pain accompanying the panic, no magic spattering onto the floor, no dirt and glass ground into cuts and joints. It was just the familiar ache in his ribs and the clean wooden floor of Doctor Fresh's house, and the five-year-old silently decided that maybe staying here for the rest of the day would be the best option.

Apparently Geno did not agree.

"I bet it isn't all that comfortable on the floor," he started gently, "Do you want to sit on the couch instead? I promise we won't hurt you."

Stiffening, Decans' mind raced as he attempted to fully interpret the offer. It might not actually be an offer, but an order disguised as a question, like when Momma wanted him to drink the fuzzy drink. He was supposed to just obey then. On the other hand, it felt nice and safe right where he was, and was more comfortable than the floors he was used to anyway.

He really didn't want to make the adult mad though, and so he uncurled himself, bones creaking and aching. Slowly squirming his way out from under the couch, the five-year-old eyed the two adults warily. His gaze bounced between them, uncertain where to focus, though it finally settled on Doctor Fresh. He was familiar, but…didn't look all that reassuring right now.

He was almost painfully still, staring at Decans with a laser focus that made the tiny skeleton more than a little uncomfortable. Shying backwards, he jumped as his shoulder was gently touched. It was enough to break his gaze away from Doctor Fresh and back to the new visitor. Geno removed the hand to smile instead, the expression warm and friendly. "I don't think we've been introduced," he said.

Decans didn't miss the wince at the movement, and stared for a moment more. He didn't see any major injuries, but his careful eyes didn't miss the tiny scars on Geno's hand, or the odd pixelation of the one eye socket. The big scarf and long sleeves hid any other injuries from view, but Decans didn't doubt they were there. Somehow it made him trust this new adult just a little more, because if he was hurting too, then maybe they weren't all that different.

"I'm your Uncle Geno," he continued, offering out his hand.

The tiny skeleton skittered backwards away from it, wary fear edging every movement, every glance. "D-D-Decans," he stuttered out quietly, fisting his hands in his hoodie and tugging at the fabric nervously. Why was that hand being held out? That usually only meant bruises. And what was an uncle? Was it like mister, or sir? It sounded like it might be, which meant he should probably use it or he would get in trouble. "I-I'm Decans, Uncle," he corrected quickly, voice getting even smaller.

Geno tilted his head, staring at him for a moment before carefully withdrawing the extended hand. "You don't have to call me uncle," he explained, his voice staying gentle instead of loud. "That was my fault for not explaining, I'm sorry."

Decans' jaw dropped slightly as he stared wide-eyed at him. It had been weird enough that Doctor Fresh had taken the blame for something, but that was just one adult being weird. Now it was _two,_ and he was beyond confused.

Doctor Fresh apparently knew what to say to this, breaking out of his silence to step a little closer to the overwhelmed kid. "No need ta be confused, lil' broski," he jumped in, smile returning as he crouched down in front of him. "Remember what I was sayin' to ya earlier? You're just a kid, it's okay ta be scared. Dis is a buncha new stuff, I get it. It's not your fault, no matter what your pop's said. Does dat make sense?"

It didn't, but Decans nodded anyway. How could it be someone else's fault for him not understanding things? He needed to be better, but he was never enough. That was okay though. He was used to it. When the hand was offered out, this time he took it, curling tiny fingers' around Doctor Fresh's hand. It was warm and secure without making anything hurt, and he held on a little tighter. "Doctor Fresh?" he piped up after a moment, voice quiet. "When can I see Momma?"

There was a pregnant pause as Doctor Fresh turned to look at Geno. Geno stood up off the ground, walking over to lean in and whisper something that Decans couldn't quite catch. Doctor Fresh had apparently, because he nodded. Taking a breath, he turned back to face the five-year-old, the same smile still on his face, though this time it looked a little more strained.

Decans tightened his grip on the adult's hand nervously, ducking to hide a bit further into his hoodie. He didn't like that look very much, and he didn't like how Geno had just left either. That didn't bode well.

"Okay, lil' broski, Imma be completely honest with ya, since lyin' to ya wouldn't be right," Doctor Fresh stared, "We all know your pop isn't a good person, but CPS has ta check it all out an' make sure you're not goin' anywhere dat's not safe. Until dey give da nod of approval, your ma isn't gonna be able ta see ya. We're all just tryin' ta make sure ya don't get all hurt anymore."

The words were met with absolute silence as Decans attempted to process them. He didn't mind not seeing his dad again, but his mom he missed already. She always made sure he had some food, and gave him books to read, and gave him blankets that didn't have old magic stains on them. Sometimes she even helped him clean the injuries, even if she said it was disgusting and his fault, which was very nice of her.

It wasn't until he felt a wet drop on his collarbone that he realized he was crying.

The quiet shuddering breaths just made his fragile ribs throb, but even that seemed swallowed up by the ache in his soul. It was like the inside hurt again, but so much worse, feeling like it just might make him crack in two.

A part of him wanted to cling to Doctor Fresh's hand, but something about that felt almost akin to betrayal. It was his mom he was missing, and Doctor Fresh was not her replacement. He never could be, and it was wrong to try and use him like that. It was just another way Decans was messing up, and he didn't think Momma would like that very much. So instead he let go abruptly, curling his hands into fists inside of worn hoodie sleeves and wrapping his arms around himself. He missed her, and he didn't know what to do.

It didn't seem that Doctor Fresh did either, because he was just staring blankly with his hand still extended. Slowly, he pulled his hand away before standing up. "I'll…uh, let ya be alone for a bit I guess?" he said, uncertainly. "I can show ya to your room, an' then I'll come check on ya. Is dat okay, Deccy broski?"

Decans nodded, not even really listening at this point. Everything was too much, too different, too foreign, and he couldn't help but wish he had stayed underneath the couch. He followed Doctor Fresh along, though he didn't take the offered hand, just curling further into himself. He barely even looked at the room before spotting the bed, immediately crawling underneath. That was safe. That was normal. Or, at least, as close as he could get. There was wood floors, clean and polished, instead of old carpet hard and crispy from dried magic. The blankets didn't fully touch the floor either, leaving a gap he could see out of, which wasn't as nice, even if the actual space was larger.

He could catch a glimpse of Doctor Fresh's shoes lingering for a moment before walking away. It was only then that Decans let out the quietest of sobs, barely more than a breath. He pulled his hood over his head, curling into a tiny ball and just burying himself in the smell of the fabric. It was musty and sour, like dust and fuzzy drinks and dried magic, but it was familiar and so he breathed it in deeply all the same.

His Momma would probably tell him to stop crying right now so Daddy wouldn't hear and get upset, and then would hug him close to muffle the sounds of ragged breaths. It would kind of hurt, but it was nice, and he longed for it. It felt a lot colder here. So the tiny five-year-old couldn't help but continue to cry, mourning for a family he wasn't sure he was supposed to miss.

* * *

 **A/N** I think this arc is winding to its close pretty quickly, so I'll have to start thinking of which one I'm going to do next. ^^ Again, if anyone has any suggestions of things they would like to see, from dialogue prompts to scenarios, feel free to leave them in the reviews!

Hope you enjoyed!

-Aiva


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